1/5/09

Tired kid's hopes and dreams
and worries
are played out on afternoon sessions
with guitar strings and soft picks;
there are only four chords,
but there's a story
that's waiting to be sung.

I'm tired of waiting,
I'm tired of dreaming.
I'm tired of sitting up at four in the morning,
wondering if tonight I'll finally get sleep.
I'm tired of wanting,
and thinking,
and shrinking,
and shrinking,
and shrinking.
You saved me- what can I say?
It's obvious.
But what now?
My feet are on the ground,
but my lungs are still in the ocean.
I want to get them back, but you won't let me.
How am I supposed to breathe?
I can't rely on you for forever.
I can't wait for them to wash up with the tide.
I can't wait for you to wash up with the tide.
I can't wait for you to wash up,
rinse off,
and sail away again.

I'm tired of writing sad songs.
I'm tired of being unaware that you're gone.
My lungs will never catch up with my heart.